


Asterisk Bearing

by Raaj



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, self-destructive tendencies in the dark knight chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaj/pseuds/Raaj
Summary: A piece about Ringabel wielding the Templar asterisk, and a piece about Edea wielding the Dark Knight asterisk, in the worlds beyond their own.





	1. Your Sword of Light

**Author's Note:**

> I put off crossposting these two pieces from tumblr for forever because I thought I should do a set of drabbles for ALL the asterisks, but since I'm not sure that'll ever happen, I'd rather share these two. (And if it does, I'll just add more chapters here.)

Braev had heard of the dangers the crystals posed to Luxendarc, the possibility that when set to rampage they might pierce the world’s boundaries. The sight before him seems to prove it. It’s obvious the wind vestal’s party has fought him on a previous world, as they hold possession of a templar asterisk–and this makes him all the more angry that they do not understand just what they have done, that they still believe the crystals are salvation. But it wrenches his heart a little to see which one of them has made himself protector of their little band.  
  
Alternis looks so  _satisfied_  when he casts a rampart before Braev can strike, or when he uses a radiant blast of light to pierce the defense of the man he swore to defend himself years and years ago. It would be maddening enough that Edea has fallen in with this foolishness, but Braev always knew of his daughter’s willfulness and spirit. By contrast, Alternis had always been so obedient, compliant. He had asked once to become a templar, and so earnestly too, but gave it up entirely and never mentioned it again when Braev told him he was stronger as a dark knight. And it’s true: this son of his is weaker than he ought to be. He’s lost something, a part of himself.  
  
He’s gained something as well, and Braev thinks he may have been wrong all those years ago, in denying the child the asterisk. For even if the light does not suit Alternis so well, it seems obvious now–his son would willingly accept the darkness if it was required of him.  
  
But he had always yearned for light.


	2. My Sword of Darkness

The instant Edea sees the dark knight asterisk gleaming on Grandship’s deck, she scrambles to grab it. It can’t be lost. It’s Alternis’–she must return it to him; her journey with Agnès is over, their mission accomplished, and she hopes that once the world is saved they might have no more need of asterisks. It’s Alternis’–this and his journal may be the only things left of him. These things, and the mystery of how Ringabel looks impossibly identical.  
  
The asterisk is very warm, almost hot when she picks it up. Alternis must have carried it on his person, somewhere close to the skin, and she clutches it tight in her fist as Grandship pitches worse and worse and they can’t figure out exactly how Airy is doing, obscured as she is by light, and–  
  
The asterisk is still warm against Edea’s palm when the four of them wake up in Caldisla, eight months of hard work and sacrifice unwound. And that so small but powerful stone burns hot against her palm when she realizes she must fight against her family and comrades again, and starts to unwind herself. The dark knight’s armor is suffocating at first, especially with its full helm, but she bears it. Alternis did. She can do the same. She has to be as strong as him. They are going to fight all over again. Before then, she wants to understand him a little better, even if it’s only by knowing his asterisk better.  
  
She learns more than she bargained for. At first, she’s only copying what she knows of his fighting, the way he would throw himself against enemies like absolutely nothing could stop him, so different from her father’s measured patience or Master Kamiizumi’s cunning reserve. She’s just trying to–she’s not sure–keep alive some part of the boy who was like a brother to her, even if by mimicking the incomprehensible, altogether frustrating man he grew up to be. It takes her a few battles and some bad blows, but by doing so, she realizes the secret of the dark knight asterisk. The more she hurts, the stronger she is.  
  
Father had spoken before of the sacrifices Alternis made in performing his duty, but she had always taken it as the many hours of work he put in, the long absences from Eternia, the risks he faced in combat. The fact that as far as she knew he had possessed little to no social life, outside of being occasionally abducted for the Sky Knights’ mischief. That he had willingly and probably frequently let himself get injured to defeat her father’s enemies had not even occurred to her. Why would it? It was madness. Even if Alternis was willing, why had her father permitted him to continue using an asterisk so dangerous?  
  
Having to betray her country a second time over when she is still mourning the first is madness, too, and yet she’s plunging in headfirst. She has to. Eternia is perpetuating so many injustices against the other countries; they must be stopped. Barras Lehr and Holly Whyte’s threats of cannon fire, Ominas Crowe’s threat of arson, Argent Heinkel’s threat to Owen and the king–she’ll stop all of those bullies, quicker than the first time with the Dark Knight’s power. As dangerous as it is, it’s very, very effective.  
  
And if she bleeds with her countrymen… it only seems fitting that way.  
  
With the Sky Knights’ chain of command wiped out and Caldisla safe, Ringabel is steering Grandship toward Ancheim when Edea walks into the cockpit, just to check on their progress. He remarks that as fond as she seems of the dark knight asterisk, its full armor really isn’t suited for the desert sun. Perhaps she’d like to try the spell fencer outfit? It seems much cooler, and would be far more complementary to her beauty in his opinion. He wriggles his eyebrows at her, and she tells him to shut up, but without any anger in her voice. She’s used to his innuendo, and this seems innocent enough; he probably is right to worry a little about the heat, though she won’t let it stop her. Had he said only that, it would have been fine.  
  
But when she’d expect pouting over being denied, his face instead grows a little more serious; he falls silent for a moment, and she’s about to leave when he speaks again. “Please, Edea. Use a different asterisk? I don’t like to see you using that one.” His fingers drum the steering wheel. “I can’t explain why, but… indulge me? If only for a little while.”  
  
“You can’t explain anything,” she says irritably. For a second she thought he’d noticed–perhaps she’d slipped and become too reckless in combat, or hadn’t realized an injury was in fact visible when she lied and said she had none–but he’s just going off a hunch, with no solid explanation. No answers to give, for all the questions he poses. “Do you know something about the asterisk that I don’t? Something about  _Alternis?_ ”  
  
He flinches, then keeps his eyes focused straight ahead, not looking at her. Coward. “I’m sorry, but I’ve told you. I truly don’t remember anything before awakening in Caldisla and seeking you out. Why Alternis looked like me, I can’t say.”  
  
“You look like him,” she counters–Alternis has been around longer than Ringabel, she knows who he is, there’s nothing strange about his existence!–and Ringabel doesn’t argue back, falling silent for good this time. Coward. A coward who is her comrade and has always fought alongside her, despite possessing no memory. Her chest tightens. She knows there’s no good reason to treat him unkindly, and she leaves him before the uneasiness in her heart can rage out of control.  
  
But she keeps using the dark knight asterisk. There’s no good reason why she should quit it, either; they can always travel by night, if the days are too hot. The thief and the merchant, the time mage and spell fencer, they all fall absurdly easily now that their tactics are known. And now that she has Alternis’ strength. She’s getting quite good at knowing how much pain she can take to be able to dish back out–more and more with each passing week–which injuries she can hide, and which will show, and which she needs healed anyway because they’d cause her too much pain for her to be able to smile and laugh with Agnès and Tiz. She may be a mess of bruises under her clothes by the time the wind crystal is awakened and the corruption has been swept out of the royal city, but the pain is nothing she can’t handle.   
  
It’s Florem that might break her. She manages to keep her composure when Ringabel and Agnès decide upon it as their next destination, because she’d expected it. It was only logical. This was the order they went in last time, and while they’re no longer constrained by issues of travel, it’s probably better for them to recreate events from that timeline as closely as possible when they can so they have a better chance of changing the true tragedies, like the murder of Agnès’ friend.  
  
But it’s just…the Venus sisters are in Florem, too. They are no more innocent than any other officer of the duchy Edea has helped to defeat, but the thought of facing each woman in battle again drives her to hide under all her blankets in tears the night before Grandship will land in the region. Einheria had been a fellow disciple with her under Master Kamiizumi. She had always been a role model to Edea, who strove to emulate the older woman’s unflinching determination. She’s definitely flinching now, though. The only solace Edea can take is that she will endure all the punishment the Venus sisters can dish out, even as she kills them. If she cannot turn her family and friends away from their wicked ends, if she cannot find the words to save them, she should at least suffer with them. There will be blood shared between them, even if they are not all biological family. She doesn’t know how else she can show her love anymore.  
  
At some point in the night Agnès’ hand touches on her blankets, the vestal asking in a plaintive whisper if anything is the matter, will Edea not talk to her? And Edea bites her lip, forcing her breathing to calm. She’s only been shaking a little. If she relaxes, Agnès can only conclude that it was a passing nightmare. Everyone has nightmares. More importantly, she can’t talk about this. Talking with Agnès won’t change the harm Einheria and her sisters are visiting upon Florem, won’t change the fact that they need to be stopped. It might just make Agnès believe she doesn’t have the resolve to do what needs to be done a second time.  
  
Edea is flinching, but she knows she must go on. So she feigns sleep, and eventually the vestal sighs and leaves her be. Eventually the last light turns out, and Agnès falls asleep in her bed, and Edea allows herself to dissolve into silent tears until she falls asleep, exhausted.  
  
She wakes late in the morning, to the clanking of metal, and she’s so worn still after all that crying that when she first sees the dark knight armor standing past Agnès’ bed, casually adjusting its own pieces, it…doesn’t seem real. She wonders if she’s dreaming, or if the armor has really come to life on its own, and asks bemusedly, “What are you doing?”  
  
“I wanted to borrow your asterisk for today,” the armor answers in a feminine voice. “Forgive me for not asking beforehand. It was an impulse.” It nods, and turns to leave the room, presumably to rain an unholy terror born from rage down on a few monsters or something. Huh.  
  
There is a very neat, intricately pretty bun of brown hair on the back of the dark knight’s head. Agnès’ bed is empty, and a cold jolt of panic shoots through Edea’s stomach as she comes further back to awareness, realizing the armor is indeed being worn, of course it is–just not by her. “Agnès, stop!” But she doesn’t. Edea curses as she scrambles up from the bed, untangling herself from blankets and shoving her arms cross-folded as she chases her friend into the corridor of the inn. “Agnès!”  
  
“It is only for a day, Edea,” Agnès says calmly, still walking and leaving Edea with no choice but to catch up and walk alongside in her nightgown. “What is the matter? We share every other asterisk.”  
  
Every other asterisk did not revolve around becoming stronger as one suffered and drew closer to the risk of dying. “Y, yeah, but you, a dark knight? What are you doing with a sword? Your thing is magic.”  
  
“I used a sword as a red mage,” Agnès counters. “Briefly, yes, but still. Besides, the asterisk provides the knowledge of how to use its weaponry. I admit it would likely be absurd if I tried to use a blade without the stone, but with, I should manage.”  
  
There’s something weird about the vestal’s tone, but in this kind of panic Edea can’t quite put her finger on it. She doesn’t want Agnès to realize how the dark knight asterisk works, because then she might be suspicious of how it’s been used, or find it completely unacceptable on principle alone. “Be a red mage again if you want to use a sword, then! It’s the best of both worlds. What are you so interested in this one for?” That’s weird in itself. Agnès went in on monk for self-defense, but in general, she just wasn’t as interested in the physically offensive classes. So what could this be about?  
  
“You seem to be very powerful with it,” Agnès murmurs. “Your minus strikes in particular I’ve noticed, and Alternis was so strong, he was chosen as the last line of defense at the Holy Pillar. Surely it would be better if we all trained in this asterisk, at least to some degree?”  
  
“No, it wouldn’t!” Edea insists–Agnès  _can’t_  put herself at risk, she’s the vestal! And she doesn’t want Ringabel or Tiz to be reckless either–and that is the moment Agnès whirls about and stops dead in front of Edea, making the younger girl pull up short.  
  
“I would like you to explain, Edea,” Agnès says, and that weird tone is in her voice again: it’s how her voice gets when she’s upset and trying to remain under control, Edea recognizes that now. “What is the matter with this asterisk?”  
  
The Eternian opens her mouth, but the words aren’t coming to her. There’s no good lie that makes sense for why only she can use it, and no one else. There’s a very tiny creak of metal as Agnès’ hands clench at the silence, and after a moment, the vestal speaks again.  
  
“Ringabel’s theory is that you have to be injured to get the most out of its power, and I think he is correct,” she says. “Your arms are exposed, Edea.”  
  
She knows without glancing down that there are several ugly bruises in various stages–some just a light darkness, some a sickly yellow-green, one an ugly purple, overlapping each other–and defensively tugs the sleeves of her nightgown further down, hiding them again. Stupid, stupid Ringabel. He  _had_ been watching. “We all get hurt in battle,” she mutters.  
  
“And we have  _potions_  to take care of that!” Agnès says, her voice finally rising in pitch. “After two days, your injuries should be gone, not hidden!”  
  
Edea can’t help flinching, especially when she hears a door opening elsewhere in the hallway. It’s the boys’ room. She doesn’t look–whether it’s Tiz or Ringabel catching this argument, she doesn’t want to see their face. Agnès is probably expecting Edea to stop protesting now that they have a witness; the vestal doesn’t like a drawn-out fight, especially in front of others. But she should know better. Edea’s fists clench. “All right, so Ringabel is right about something! That’s exactly why I should be the only one to use the asterisk. I can take a hit; I’m the one who’s been properly trained to fight.  _You_  hate it, you stay back and heal any chance you can! There’s no way you could be a proper dark knight, nor should you try. You’re the vestal, Agnès. Stop being foolish and give it back already.”  
  
“…Yes. I am the vestal,” Agnès allows. “So do not doubt my conviction, Edea. If any tactic would be unacceptable for me,  _it is the same for you_. If you think I am too weak to bear the same pain as a friend, I will happily prove you wrong.”  
  
…Stupid. Stupid! That wasn’t supposed to be a dare, but Agnès had to go and take it that way; probably, Edea should have expected she would. When Agnès moves again, Edea doesn’t waste any time in seizing her arms and pushing her against the wall in a pin. The vestal actually has some resistance with the added mass of armor, but she wasn’t prepared for the sudden action, and Edea is still stronger and has the momentary advantage of desperation. There is no way she’ll let this crystal-headed girl be hurt over something so stupid! Over her!  
  
“Both of you, stop it!” It’s Tiz who’s caught their fight, who now catches Edea by the shoulder and steps in between the girls, forcing a little distance between them. Edea jerks back, steeling herself for more lecturing, but he turns to the armored girl first. “I know you mean well, Agnès, but that was too far.”  
  
The black helmet dips slightly in a bow. “…How else can I make her understand?”  
  
“I understand perfectly well,” Edea insists. She truly does understand why they wouldn’t like her use of the asterisk! That’s why she took care to hide it. They didn’t have to know. It couldn’t hurt them if they didn’t know.  
  
“Just… give me the asterisk, please?” Tiz’s voice stays gentle; it’s obvious he’s trying to be the mediator. It’s what he usually does. “I don’t want anyone using it until we’ve talked about how we should use it. Because it isn’t right for any of us to be hurt if we can help it.”  
  
Edea opens her mouth. Closes it. She wants to argue, the asterisk is helpful, she can withstand being hurt, …she wants it. But she knows how the words would sound to her if she heard them from anyone else, and they lodge in her throat. At least Tiz is good for dissuading Agnès from taking dangerous risks with herself: the vestal hesitates, but removes her helmet to show her tear-streaked face and hands Tiz the asterisk, allowing the conjured armor to disappear into the ether. “No one uses it,” the young woman says pointedly.  
  
“I promise. …I’d like to speak with Edea in private, if that’s all right.”  
  
Edea herself nearly wants to reject him out of hand, but if the choice is between dealing with Tiz or Agnès right now, she’d rather deal with Tiz. She’s still upset about Agnès trying to prove a point by taking the asterisk, and Tiz is the mediator of the group for a reason. Though he ushers Edea into another room, he doesn’t start up with a lecture of his own. He just asks: “Do you want to talk about what’s been going on?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“All right. I want to take care of your arms, though. They must be sore.”  
  
She’s not sure if he doesn’t realize she has bruises elsewhere, or if he’s guessed that and is letting her have some measure of privacy after the debacle in the hall. Either way she’s grateful enough, and tired enough, to give up to his request, taking a seat on the bed. “They’re really not bad, but you can go ahead, if you must.”  
  
“Thanks, Edea. It’s just, we have been getting worried about you. This has been strange and difficult for all of us, but it’s probably hardest on you. If I were you… if it were my family…” He pauses, seemingly searching for adequate words. But in the end, he shakes his head, and says simply: “There’s no way I could do this a second time.”  
  
Tiz isn’t Ringabel, with the mysteries and weird bits of insight. And he’s nothing like Agnès, with her equal but opposite convictions. Tiz is just Tiz–plain and honest, who also loved his family and friends right up until he lost them, and knowing that makes his sympathy hit hard and true. The firm frown on her face breaks, her bottom lip shaking. She tries to keep the tears down as he treats her bruises with a light application of potion, but that doesn’t stop him from moving around once he’s done to hug her from behind. He’s very, very careful about it; he must suspect the other bruises.  
  
“We could avoid them,” he says, still holding her. “All we have to do is awaken the crystals. Since we know where they are, we can steer clear.”  
  
“And let them keep hurting people?” She’s glad she can at least hold onto her logic and principles, even when she’s crying. Even when they hurt her. “It wouldn’t be right, Tiz, you know that.”  
  
“It’s not right to put you through this.” He shakes his head. “Surely we can find a better way. What if… here it was the chemicals causing all the problems. They all went through that secret lab, and DeRosa. What if we just focused on destroying the lab? We might have to fight DeRosa, but…”  
  
Edea laughs roughly, glancing up at Tiz through her tears. “I am not in the least bit concerned about that foul rapist. But that won’t stop the Venus sisters. They’re a determined lot.”  
  
“…Mm. I remember,” he murmurs. “But it didn’t seem like Einheria actually liked what they were doing, and her sisters respect her, right? So if she gets to make the decisions… perhaps they’d choose more honorable tactics. Do you think it’s possible?”  
  
Edea furrows her brow. It…should be possible: Einheria’s moral code was part of why Edea had respected her. Though it simply couldn’t be reconciled with what was going on in Florem… if that were perhaps DeRosa’s doing–he’s a big enough creep that she wouldn’t put anything past him. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but… but. She’s so  _tired_. She really can’t bear the notion of harming those she loves all over again. “Maybe… Let’s bring it up to Agnès. Later. What about the Black Blades in Eisenberg? Father and Alternis?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Tiz admits. “I haven’t figured anything out that far yet. But between the four of us, we’ll work something out. You’re a dear friend to all of us, Edea. A lot of things are confusing right now, but please trust us to help you.”  
  
She knows that’s true of all of them; even Ringabel, who is honestly one of the most confusing things right now, has been looking out for her. “I will. Thank you, Tiz.”


End file.
